


starlite

by freedomdive



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-28
Updated: 2015-05-28
Packaged: 2018-04-01 15:23:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4024948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/freedomdive/pseuds/freedomdive
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I don't want to stay in the past forever, Karkat. But you'll eventually have to leave us behind."</p>
            </blockquote>





	starlite

**Author's Note:**

> _scared?_
> 
> _yeah._
> 
> _i know._
> 
> _i just don't know where i'm supposed to be. y'know?_

Your name is Kankri Vantas, and you have had enough.

That is the last thought that rumbles through your frustrated head before you stomp into your designated block on this awful, awful meteor, throw your (new) sweater to the ground, and kick it off to the other side of the room. You've had enough with conforming to Porrim's tasteless fabrics and sweaters and all of this nonsense! You are just done. You've always loved loved loved your righteous leggings -- and as much as you appreciate Porrim's kind gestures, you can't help but wonder if the motive behind them meant to be more enticing to you. She made a lot of the damnable things, and the discarded bunch that she made all those sweeps ago eventually lay in a corner of your block. She pushed them onto you, urging you to keep her failures for yourself.

You didn't mind, so they’ve just been sitting there, rotting away for the time being.

…Suddenly, you think of your descendant.

Your relationship with Karkat is rather strained. In a recent turn of events, he’d confessed pity for you, and you didn’t know what to do. You haven’t known what to do for a while. So you’re quite sure he’s made numerous visits to your favorite spot on the stairs to wait for you and you haven’t been there, and the reason was absolutely because you didn’t want to reject him. Or accept him, either; it’d be breaking your vow. It was the sole reason why you’ve so long been able to concentrate on your sermons.

And yet… something about Karkat interests you, past the idea of him being your descendant. So help you if it were a romantic interest that you did not know how to control; you couldn’t bear the idea of going back on your word after so many sweeps of denying your feelings… but the way Karkat looked at you was that one particular downfall.

A look of … not platonic, but not quite quadrantic pity. For you, and only you. And that scared you, hit a part of your heart that became terrified of being a hopeless little mutant.

Your gaze rests on the bright red against the dreary gray of the room. You walk over and flop onto the pile of clothes, sighing deeply as soon as your stomach hits the cloud-like substance. It’s… very comfortable.

Yeah. You nearly fall asleep until you hear the door swing open roughly and you shove yourself off of the sweaters and sprawl out onto the ground and turn around to meet gazes with Karkat himself.

“What the fuck are you doing?” he asks, and you sputter, trying to come up with anything convincing. When there’s nothing, he eventually sighs and walks over to the pile behind you, laying in it and sighing satisfactorily in a very similar fashion that you did. You watch him carefully, eventually crawling in to lay down next to him, and it’s quiet between the two of you for a while.

“What are we doing, exactly?” you ask offhandedly.

“We’re laying in a sweater pile. Didn’t you do this back then? Wait, shit, you’re a Beforan troll.”

You sulk, looking away. A lot of his Alternian culture was built around romance, and it was simply a subject you wanted so much to avoid, for the sake of your words having meaning. It was terrible.

“I’m sorry. I can’t understand most of this.”

“Usually moirails do this,” he mumbles in explanation, “but it’s really for all trolls to just talk about things that are bothering them. It’s like a little feelings jam booth.”

“I see.” You turn around so you’re facing him, and vice versa. The moment becomes intimate when you lock eyes, and you squirm uncomfortably. You can see the disappointment in his face, and suddenly he moves closer. You’re so unsure now, oh god, and you back away a little, worry etching its way into your features.

“Karkat, wait,” you mumble, helplessly. “I know you pity me, but…” He’s shifting closer and his arms are around your neck and it’s so intimate, the way that he’s coddling you, you feel like bursting inappropriately into tears and you’re starting to panic, breaths becoming gasps, and you want to push him off of you when he retracts a hand and strokes your cheek with the back of it just the way a highblood would no no _no no please don’t treat me like this_ , I can think for myself, I can, I can I can _I can_ , I am able to be an independent troll please I am sorry for being such a petulant little wiggler

He looks at you with such confusion, such a lack of understanding that you want to break out into words right then and there, but then would he listen? Would he take your words to heart? You feel sick and disgusted with yourself, for wanting him…

But then you don’t want to deny him, either, because you do feel for him. You feel something. You want so much for him to be happy. You know, without having to ask, what he’s actually been through. The real, true misery and exhaustion in his eyes. You pity the way he walks around, defeatedly and without a fire in his eyes that you knew was once there. And while you don’t want to bother him with asking if you’ve triggered him at all, you still want his struggles to be validated and important. Just like you wanted for yourself.

Before you can think about it any longer, the distance between both of you is closed, and he’s tilting his head to merge your lips together like puzzle pieces. Unsureness creeps from within you, but the feeling of his lips on yours is surprisingly fleeting and relaxing and you kiss back with the meager skill that you have. And he hums softly against your mouth in response – which sends distinct, but not uncomfortable jitters throughout you.

He brushes a hand through your hair, tucking it gently behind your ears; in response, you grab hold of Karkat’s shirt, softly, as if any harder would break the entire dreambubble. If that wasn’t pity, you didn’t know what was. He was being unspeakably gentle with you, as if afraid you might fall apart, crack into pieces. He breaks the kiss by mere inches, nearly whispering against your lips. “I’m sorry,” he titters, and then he pauses. “But I pity you so fucking much.”

“It’s fine,” you say, more on auto-pilot than anything. Your heart is pounding hard with jumpy anxiousness when the word ‘pity’ just repeats itself in your head again. Will he never listen to what you have to say now? Will he shut you up in favor of cradling you like a helpless wiggler, like all those highbloods did when you were small? You press on either way, feeling trapped. “Feel free to... do what you were doing.”

Karkat doesn’t waste a second to act, pushing his parted lips against yours again; but this time he goes with a bit more passion than the last. He shifts upward until he turns you over on your back against the... the pile of sweaters, that’s right. His hands start to travel down and up through your shirt, brushing over the gentle curves of your waist with that same sweet, endearing gesture. You gasp at Karkat’s touch – it’s all so frightening and new and you feel underexperienced and awkward and even as the elder Vantas, you can’t help but feel useless like this… Useless, like then…

He breaks the kiss again to look down at you, realizing you’ve stopped responding. His gaze wasn’t lustful, not to you at least, and something in your heart was glad for that because you probably wouldn’t want to do anything so fast. He seems more confused than anything, almost wondering why you are so afraid.

“Karkat, I’m sorry, I don’t know what to say.”

“For once,” he quips.

At that, you look away from him, deep in thought. Should you explain to him your reasons for acting the way you do? You know he pities you, and he knows you feel something too. It all became clear in the way you two interacted, in the way you two spoke, in the nuances of your words. But you refuse to budge, refuse to open your mind to things out of fear that you’ll never again be able to have an independent thought, just like before.

“I don’t know,” Karkat muses, “what Beforus is like. So maybe, maybe you should tell me. So I can understand why you dislike me.”

“What I feel for you isn’t hatred. It’s… it’s something I cannot comprehend at the moment.” He waits for you to continue, and with a deep sigh, you do.

“On Beforus, I was also culled. But I wasn’t culled as in… murdered, obviously. I was taken into highbloods’ homes, bathed, coddled, covered in kisses and blankets and affection. The moment I said a word, she’d tell me, ‘Kankri, having independent thoughts isn’t necessary. All you need is me, right?’ And I said, ‘Okay.’ And then - and then it went on like that. I ran away. And it just got worse. I didn’t want to approach relationships. I didn’t like seeing other trolls. They scared me. They made me feel useless, ineffective. I was afraid to be coddled again, and told whatever I said wouldn’t ever matter.”

Karkat isn’t speaking, just staring at you.

“Karkat,” you plead, your vision blurring, “I just don’t want this to repeat itself. Please forgive me… forgive this wretched self for being afraid.”

And you cry. Karkat pulls you toward him as soon as your tears fall, your face in his chest, and you sob.

“It’s not fair,” you weep, “no one listens to me, and I’ve been stuck in this same mindset. Talking, and talking and talking, because I just want people to _listen_. Half of what I say doesn’t make sense anymore. All my theories are weird and strange as they come out of my mouth. Most of them are wrong. I’m glad they don’t call me helpless, but being ignored… it hurts more than I thought it would. I don’t want to stay in the past forever, Karkat. But you’ll eventually have to leave us behind.”

Karkat still isn’t speaking, just watching you cry, and you’re terrified. So afraid. He isn’t telling you to be quiet, or to shush and let him do all the thinking for you, just letting you vent a little bit… when’s the last time you’ve ever gotten a chance to be so…

So open?

You sit up, curling into yourself.

“I haven’t got advice for you,” says Karkat uneasily, “but it won’t change the fact that I still really pity you. And just so you know. You’re hopeless, but you are an independent, wishy-washy hopeless asshole. And you can have your own thoughts, hopes, and dreams. Just like everyone else. Remember that.”

Karkat gets up. “This is the last time I’ll see you for a little while. Just think about what I said.”

He leaves.

After a few moments of silence… you are confused. You feel more empty than before, now. But on the other hand, you want to look forward… towards something better. You want Karkat to return, you want him to speak to you, to help you find yourself. It would be a long time, but it wouldn’t be forever.

You are Kankri Vantas, and you feel closer to your true self than before.

And maybe that’s enough, for now.


End file.
